THE SOURCES OF THE STORY'S POWER-religious
I. Sources of power in the story itself. a. Concreteness and definiteness of teaching. b. Interest in the lesson as so presented. c. Appeal to the feelings which prompt to action. 2. The influence of the story-teller's own response to the story. 3. Some ways of gaining this added power. a. Faithful study of the story. b. Going to original sources. c. Telling one's own stories. When you make a story your own and tell it, the listener gets the story plus your appreciation of it. — Sara Cone Bryant. Our first duty to a Bible story is to love it; its effect we may leave to the divine Artist. — Richard G. Moulton. It is not the story in the lesson quarterly that you can build into the lives of your class; it is the story in you.— Falter L. Hervey. But the secret of good story-telling lies not in following rules, not in analyzing processes, not even in imitating good models, though all these are necessary, but first of all in being full — full of the story, the picture, the children; and then from being morally and spiritually up to concert pitch, which is the true source of power in anything. From these come spontaneity; what is within must come out; the story tells itself; and out of your fullness the children receive. — Ibid. FROM childhood we have all felt the story's influence; in what does it consist ? In the preceding chapters we have noted some of the qualities that give it interest and have studied devices that add effectiveness in presen¬tation; but we feel that back of this there is something that is more than all of these. When we search for it we are driven to the conclusion that it is the story itself. Beauty of literary form has an intrinsic charm for culti¬vated minds, but choice diction never stirred a heart or influenced a life. Empty nothings clothed in well- turned phrases are as disgusting to a healthy mind as the sight of an imbecile trigged out in the extreme of fashion. The story which lacks an inner spiritual quality is as devoid of power to stir a soul as are the sophomoric attempts at rondeaus, rondels, and triolets in which the college annuals abound. There is some¬thing that precedes method both in importance and in time. "First catch your rabbit" applies in story-telling as well as in cookery. If a story is to be told a first essential is a situation that appeals to human interest, and some sort of a hint at a solution of a problem in human life. But the story outweighs in influence the homily which still more directly deals with material of just this sort; there is some element of power in the story form. This is doubtless partly a matter of concreteness of presentation. All children and many adults of the less cul¬tured class find it at least relatively difficult to master an abstract principle. It is the specific and concrete and that which is associated with human interests rather than general ideas logically arranged that find ready entrance to their minds. The average man will get a truer idea of the Middle Ages from Ivanhoe than from Hallam's history. Not only will the story awaken larger interest, but from it he will carry away more knowledge. That which is presented is apperceived more fully. In teaching morals to these people the same principles obtain. They are guided in their choices by impulse and habit rather than by reason. They have not studied conduct in its deeper relations, comparing motive with motive, choice with choice, issue with issue, sufficiently to rise to general moral principles except of the simplest kind. It follows that when such principles are presented by others they can not make a strong appeal to them. Even if a principle has been accepted in general terms it is not always easy for the untrained mind to apply it accurately to the varied situations of daily life. In child life this finds frequent illustration. A boy or girl will accept a general statement of duty, but when the attempt is made to apply it to his own conduct he will deny its authority if it conflicts with his own preference. This is not due simply to the fact that the child's selfish impulses are strong, but also to the difficulty of trans¬lating an abstract statement of duty into terms of conduct. Here the story helps. If well told it suggests the principle, but often, and particularly if it is of the real¬istic type, it makes the application clear beyond a doubt. But the story does more than point out what conduct ought to be. Laws and other disciplinary rules will accomplish that. While the specific "Thou shalt nots " of the Old Testament mean more to the child than Jesus' summary of the law, they are often powerless to control. There are persons who accept the justice of the eighth commandment, and who admit the obligation to obey it, but who sometimes steal. The law is not effective at such times because an element with which it does not deal has entered in. This is what we call temptation, an emotional experience. The law deals with fact: the story adds an appeal to the feelings, and so deals with motives as well as with deeds. It is this element of emotional appeal, one of the vital characteristics of the story, that chiefly gives it moral power. It is the source of interest, first of all. When a reviewer uses the terms "thrilling," "sensational," "romantic," "dull," "prosy," "commonplace," in his description of a novel, he attempts to indicate the quality and force of the feelings which it stirs. Our at¬titude toward books that we have not read is largely determined by such descriptions. The novels that we read again and again are those that stir us deeply, though they may not be at all of the sensational type. But more than the rousing of interest is involved in the ordinary emotional response to a good story. How often has the reader found his heart beating rapidly, his breathing suppressed, his hands clenched, or his eyes filled with tears as he followed the words of some master story-teller. While he read or listened he has unconsciously identified himself with the hero of the tale, has felt his disappointments and shared his aspira¬tions, and has experienced the same feelings of indigna¬tion toward his enemies and contempt for their motives. Not only has a certain course of conduct been definitely and vividly set before him, but the impulse to act in harmony with it has been stirred. All the energy of the moral life is in the feelings, and the story stirs these as law and even exhortation never can. Several sources of influence have already appeared, but we have not yet reached the end of our quest. As the story is more than its form, so one might almost say that the story-teller is more than the story itself. Since the power of the story is chiefly in its emotional appeal, the story-teller's manifest feeling is an important factor in the impression that is made. It is precisely because it is interpreted by a human personality that the story that is told is better than the one that is read. So true is this that what under ordinary circumstances would seem but a trivial happening becomes a tragedy that moves one to tears when it is related by one to whom it was full of painful meaning. He who repeats the story, if he has grasped its significance and has felt it deeply, can give it something like the same power to stir the heart of the hearer; otherwise it is again a mere commonplace incident of daily life. So it is that one who has grasped the subtle spiritual significance of an allegori¬cal tale so responds to its message that by every tone of voice and expression of face he greatly reinforces its power. The practical suggestion that these facts offer to one who would make successful story-telling a part of his art of teaching is that whatever adds to his appreciation of the meaning or importance of a story will add to its effectiveness as told. Until one has entered into the spirit of a tale he cannot tell it well. It is partly because of the increased response to the spiritual essence of the story that the one that is oft told becomes a more im¬pressive one. Its scenes come to be visualized more clearly; its characters take on a more definite personality; its meaning is hinted in minor incidents as a man's character is revealed in trivial acts. It is because of this almost instinctive response to the story itself that some persons can tell a story well without recourse to the methods that have been suggested for the student's guidance in the preceding chapters of this book. It is this that Professor Moulton has in mind when he says that the teacher's first duty is to love the story. If he does, giving it form will not be a serious problem. Good taste and subtle harmonies come almost without effort, as when a mother clothes a child that she really loves. If the story is but the opportunity for the display of brilliant diction the product of the teller's art is like a vul¬gar display of tasteless finery on the overdressed child of those who would advertise their newly-acquired wealth. One or two practical applications of these facts may well be pointed out. One who takes his story-telling seriously cannot afford to content himself with the study of other persons' adaptations of the world's great stories. Let him go to the masters who created them, or who gave them classic form, for their spirit and their meaning. Then, when he has saturated himself with the feeling which they stir he may turn to others for aid as to con¬densation and presentation of the tales for a special audience. It is rarely that the results do not warrant the effort that this costs. Again, one may well remember that one's favorite story is usually one's best. This at once suggests • that every teacher has a large fund of as yet unused material, and this is of the richest kind. Whatever one has deeply felt will appeal to many others if it is rightly presented. The stories that have moved you are the ones through which you, if not another, can best stir other hearts. The novels that you remember, the characters in history that stand out, the incidents of every-day life that stirred your sympathy or admiration, the friends that you have loved, the choices that shaped your own character, these are the things that shaped into simple stories will go from your lips to the hearts of those that listen. Patiently and faithfully give them the form that will best reveal the message that they brought to you, and then use them with confidence; and use them over and over again, for with these stories you will give yourself. Moralizing all men resent; from experience they learn without a murmur. Why is it that the story's lessons so readily go home if not because its teaching method is so near to that by which the earliest and most important lessons of every-day life are learned ? It is at root but learning by the experience of another. The story — what is it but a bit of life translated into words ? If the story is your own, it is no longer a transuipt; it is life itself. HINTS FOR FIRST - HAND STUDY Carefully observe the attitude of good story-tellers toward the different stories that they tell. Ask your story-telling friends what stories they hit be and note whedser they are the asses that their hearers most en:py. Work op some of your own ezpesiences fix itfihig an stories, and test their In warding fixr suitable masetia' I con- :ides such sub*ts as the happiest experience of your dad- hood or muth, some conscious writte-doing which brought you suffering or repentance, some treat sorrow of your life and its lessons, the bravest thing that r), ever knew a boy or girl do, the moit pathetic incident in real life that ma ever snr, etc. Make similar tests with the sonies that mu have ready enjoyed, or which have gready influenced you, if necessary cutting down and condensing whole novels to suitable length for telling.